


Lend A Hand

by fandomfluffandfuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (is that a thing??), (mentioned) - Freeform, Alpha!Peggy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Biting, Bonding, Breeding Kink, CA:TFA, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Female Alphas, Feminization, Gags, Hormones, Horniness, Knotting, Loud Sex, M/M, Make-shift gags, Manhandling, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Bucky, Omega!Steve, Omega/Omega, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Steve has the serum and they made him have super heats, Steve's tits, Threesome - F/M/M, World War II, alpha/omega/omega, belly bulge, lipstick kink, that's it... that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Steve's super powered heats are more than Bucky feels comfortable handling on his own- he doesn't want to watch his omega suffer and he can't knot Steve so he brings in a helping hand. Neither of them mind.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Lend A Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this just to stretch my wings in writing about women and because there's never enough A/B/O with Omega!Steve and, uhm, why the hell would I say no to Alpha!Peggy?
> 
> You can come scream at me on Tumblr if you wish! It's the same username as I have here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fandomfluffandfuck

If tonight was a regular night in Bucky’s life he would be chuckling or at least grinning at the door he’s standing in front of, but he’s not, and he wishes he was. He wishes he had it in him to tease Agent Carter about the fact that, hey, did you notice the door to your flat is literally the same color as your lipstick. Well, lipstick and that dress that you wore that made Steve turn into a useless pile of mushy omega hormones that question everything that the mantle of “Captain America” should be. It could be the fact that he’s been here before, he could blame his lacking humor there, but it’s not that either. He usually breaks a smile every time he sees Peggy Carter’s door because it’s a small thing that makes the world seem less like a complete sham, but tonight isn’t usual. 

Night’s like tonight haven’t been usual since Steve went and got himself patriot-ifed. Sprouting up taller and broader and wider everywhere, draping in red, white, and blue at every hour that allows other soldiers or civilians eyes to take his measure. Bucky didn’t join the fight because he likes the look of the flag or of uniforms… well, that last part might be a bit of a lie, he likes Steve and Carter a whole lot and he finds them just a bit more tolerable (especially when they get together) when they're dressed up like that. Looking pretty as sin. 

Bucky finds himself returning to London night through the rapping of his own knuckles. Again, it should be funny, knocking on such a respectable alpha’s door at such a not respectable time of night. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, looking at the pretty contrast of the red of her door and his own skin, the tap of her feet can be heard promptly. 

“Damn brits,” he mumbles into the chilled air. His affectionate, passive-aggressive words curling into the air like smoke from some of those lucky-strikes he could occasionally afford to bum off of some guy at the docks- back home. Truthfully he doesn’t mind, it’s kinda funny anyway, how prim and proper Peggy Carter can be. It’s a good change. Especially compared to the fuckin’ handful, err, handfulls now, that Steve can be. 

That’s the only difference between them, he’s sure, the fact that he doesn’t have to run after Agent Carter. He does have to run after Steve- to keep him out of trouble. Or, y’know, keep the amount of trouble he gets into to a minimum. 

“Oh, dear. Tonight?” Peggy looks as she usually does, she’s even still dressed in her uniform for some reason. 

“Sure is, darlin’,” Bucky finds himself drawling, she’s seemingly much, much calmer than him and it’s apparently contagious. Damn alpha’s intuition or whatever the hell that is. Maybe it’s just her thing. That might be it- she’s an interesting, captivating woman after all. 

“Right,” she turns away and shuts the door just the smallest amount, “then lead the way.” 

Bucky purrs, linking his arm with her offered one while he bites down a smile at her obvious inhale as she scents him; he reminds himself that the clear omega, clearly submissive noise he just made is because he’s close to his heat too, he always gets a little too sensitive to alpha hormones before a cycle, and not because he’s got quite the same thing for Agent Carter that Steve does. He’s never liked women as much as Steve. He appreciates them, definitely, that’s not the issue. The issue is that he likes Steve too much for his own damn good. No dame stands a goddamn chance against the fucking peice of art that is his omega. It wouldn’t matter if he was a beta or an alpha instead of a queer omega- he loves Steve. 

And that’s always been his problem. 

Bucky can feel Steve’s distress the entire way back from Carter’s flat. He feels is build and grow like they’re his own feelings, his own oncoming cycle, he can always feel Steve no matter his location now because the one unexpected good thing that the serum did was make their weak omega to omega bond stronger and more reliable than most highly compatible alpha to omega bonds, not that they could tell anyone that little piece of knowledge. Either way, feeling it and smelling it as they approach is different. 

Feeling it is in his own head. He has gotten to know, easily, how to deal with things inside his own head recently. 

Smelling it is in the real world. And the real world has Agent Carter in it. 

She stiffens eventually, making Bucky question himself (could he really smell Steve? Was it just his imagination playing tricks on him?), but she doesn’t say anything. Not about the growing bulge in her sensible work skirt or about the fact that he’s also got a much smaller bulge that’s also growing, thankfully his uniform pants are too heavy, made of cotton and wool, for his scent to leak through. Nevertheless- Carter knows. 

She clears her throat outside the door, opening her mouth and shaping her lips, readying herself to say something, no doubt. A hefty whine pierces the damp, dark air between them instead of her smooth yet clipped, proper accent. 

Bucky nearly vibrates with sound. He barely clamps his lips down around an equally omega-ish noise. His nostrils flare without his brain catching up to what’s going on.

Steve. 

Peggy shuts her full lips before opening them again, Bucky feels her hands come to his shoulders, “are you sure this will work like we talked about, James?”

Bucky nods stiffly, his legs have turned to jello all of the sudden and he’s not quite sure if it’s because his own heat is ramping up into fully controlling him or if it’s because Steve’s is and he’s around it, both in the way an alpha goes into rut when they’re around their omega that’s in season and in the way anyone’s mate is affected when their partner is in season. He’s not so sure they’re different anymore- standing out in the cold with Carter staring at him as if she’s going to eat him alive. She nods back and takes her hands away. Bucky doesn’t think twice about pouting when she does. 

She smiles, “run me through it once more?” Her request is a whisper, either because the regular barracks aren’t far to the south or because she doesn’t want Steve to know, seeing as he’s inside their own, empty, barracks against their backs. 

“Yes, al-” Bucky nearly whines in frustration, but he breathes through his mouth (not through his nose because if he does that he’ll just get a lungful of his mate’s lush scent and some of the smell of Carter’s growing sympathy rut and he doesn’t need an even foggier head right now), “ma’am,” he corrects. He hopes his face doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels. “Ever since Steve was given the serum everything about him is better. Healthier, if you will.” He’s trying to go about this with the same amount of enthusiasm as he would any mission report to the intel officer standing in front of him and he’s doing a terrible job. “And that includes his designation…” Bucky trails off, as far as he’s aware Carter, Stark, Erskine, and himself are the only people who know what Steve really is. What Captain America isn’t, really. Peggy nods her head and gives him a vague twist of the hand, encouraging him to continue, “his heats. Before all this we never had trouble, helping each other out, getting through our heats together.” Bucky can’t help the smirk that breaks through to the surface of his face, “we’ve been synced up since before I can remember. Probably since we first both presented. But…” Bucky actually shutters, feeling a bit like a dramatic house-omega telling some tale that gets more dramatic every time it’s recalled. 

“But this last time, the first time since he got the serum, I mean. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Carter it wasn’t like nothing I’ve ever seen…” Bucky feels his cheeks flush at the intimate memories, “I thought I felt desperate the first time I ever went into heat. And. I, I- just… forget being turned up to eleven, Steve was on a hundred, crying and barely coherent, begging me for things he knows I don’t have. Begging for me to help him in ways I can’t because he couldn’t stop the urges.” Peggy looks no less scared then she did when all three of them talked about this together after this first went down. Bucky isn’t sure what to make of her facial expression, he wishes she was scared for his own sake, so he knows he’s not alone, but he also is glad she’s not scared because if she was she might not be standing here with him. 

“You’ve spent time with omegas when they’re in season,” that was something else they’d spoken about too, “but I know that it won’t be nothing compared to this. This is something different. It’s animal. More animal than the way they describe our respective cycles in school.” 

Agent Carter leans into him, replacing her hands not on his shoulders but on his waist, Bucky wants, instinctively, to melt into the warmth coming from her, she comes close enough that he can see every pore and every line on her face. Her breath is pleasant, it smells as if she brushed her teeth a while ago, “Peggy or alpha, James.” She reminds him, “for now.” 

Sealing the private words with a kiss that is better than it has any right to be- considering that they’ve never kissed before. 

She kisses like Steve. Full of strong wanting moves and just the perfect amount of tongue and teeth that work in harmony. Her lipstick isn’t as much as a hurdle as Bucky remembers it being, it’s been a while since he’s kissed a dame. It doesn’t taste fantastic but it’s not supposed to. Her teeth are sharper than Steve’s so when they lock down on his bottom lip it’s all he can do to melt into the wall that’s appeared behind him and gasp. Her body isn’t as big, no one’s is, or as hard as Steve’s, but her chest feels nice, heavy and warm and smashed up against his own. Her cock also feels nice. It’s bigger and heavier than Steve’s but Steve’s not an alpha. Neither is he. 

Peggy steps away, Bucky’s whine follows her. 

A smirk, sharp as the letter opener on her desk, appears on her face, “you’re not going to get greedy are you, darling?” 

Bucky wants to faint. 

“No, Peggy,” he whispers, feeling an urgency build and break inside his chest. It’s like a dam has broken inside of him. Rather than water behind it’s walls there’s nothing but fire, fire and heat and desire. It’s time. Steve’s heat has broken. 

He doesn’t say anything out loud but apparently Cart- Peggy, Peggy knows anyway. Alpha’s intuition. 

Bucky has the door fucking cracked for one single second and the next he’s on the bed with a heaving, feverish, naked, oh, blessedly, naked, writhing form on top of him. The heat suddenly over his skin is sweltering. And, dear Jesus, the noises he’s making. Bucky more than hard listening to him- feeling him. He’s soaked. Both of them are now, together, and wet. Sticking to each other. But Steve’s wetter, both with slick - the scent of which is so thick in the air that he can fucking taste it as he pants through his mouth - and with sweat - which is so nicely coating his skin that Bucky can’t get a solid grip on him for even a second before his hands slips on those god like muscles. He can’t get even one glimpse of Steve’s face because it’s shoved in his neck, feverish and raw, his tongue lapping at their bonding scar with such intensity that Bucky is honestly wondering if his skin will be rubbed raw after this. He does heal as fast as Steve does anymore. 

His hips are already working down too, he’s literally humping him. And he’s doing it like it’s the best thing in the world, and if the way he’s moaning is any indication… it must feel like it too. He doesn’t even glance back at Peggy for all that Bucky can tell, although he does have his hands, his whole body really, quite full. Steve’s dick is against his thigh, hot and wet like the rest of him. Bucky wonders, faintly, how much of that wetness is pre-cum bubbling eagerly out of his nearly purple dick and how much of it is his own cum, how much of what isn’t his cum is his fragrant slick. Before- when Steve was too sick to go into heat regularly, he didn’t produce much slick, they’d had to use excess of his own to slick Steve up enough to get something to easily slide into him, but now he doesn’t even leak. He pours slick.

He’s fully expecting to have to put in for new sheets after this week. That’s how goddamn wet he gets. The entire backs of his thighs and his ass and all the rest of him, eventually, gets coated. It’s a sight for sore eyes for sure- that’s not the issue. Well. None of it’s really an issue other than the fact that after the last heat he had Bucky’s dick and hole felt and looked a little raw from overuse. Steve is more than a fucking eyeful when wet and flushed and tireless. Whining and begging to be fucked full because his cunt aches, because he can feel it aching and it hurts, so, ‘please’. Giving in to his every omega role and want that he hated when he was smaller. 

Bucky can’t not make his own sounds. Nor can he not get caught up in the pleasure sweeping his sanity away, Steve is just going to town, looking like he does, and panting and moaning into his neck and smelling like the best dessert one could imagine. Fire consumes his insides. Melting them all into nothing but lust that maybe could be translated into some weapon of mass destruction with all that overpowering want if someone took their entire lives decoding it. Bottle the inferno and Bucky knows no one who held it in their hands would come out unscathed. Burns would be the least of their worries. He can’t imagine what would happen if you tried to capture the desire of the desperate hurricane wrecking it’s way through Steve. 

Peggy isn’t as caught up in it as they are. She’s not in it’s direct path as of currently. 

He’s got no idea if Steve even knows she’s here, especially not as he grinds himself straight to cumming against Bucky’s thigh. Panting and incoherently whimpering about how empty he is, repeating things that sound somewhat like, his name, his designation, and other words like: please, empty, empty, fuck me, please, knot, please, need to be full, and a hole host of other things that Bucky knows he never even would’ve let himself think about before the serum gave him a body to support that spit-fire personality inside of him. Bucky’s own cunt sympathetically throbs and clenches around nothing. His dick fucking twitches and leaks against his own stomach as he watches Steve spill. 

That’s something else too, now there’s so much more cum too. He cums and it looks like a fucking firehose, soaking his chest and stomach and usually getting up to his own mouth. 

But Bucky doesn’t have too much time to appreciate the tidal wave of cum now staining his uniform because Steve’s being pulled off of him, his release already going tacky against his hip (and the entire side of his body really) and Bucky whines despite himself. Not understanding with the smoke from the fire burning between their bodies making his focus hazy. He clings to Steve weakly even as he remembers the agreement they’ve forged with Peggy. 

Carter’s voice curls around Steve’s and his own shared designation title in some way that’s too dangerous for him to really understand, “omega,” she hushes. Bucky’s not quite sure who it is that she’s talking to. Then she goes and pets those perfectly lacquered fingernails down Steve’s chest and Bucky assumes, not sorely in the slightest, that she’s speaking to him. She’s being a little rougher than Bucky remembers himself doing, the first time after he got Steve back, but rather than feeling some kind of possessiveness curl in his chest all he feels is heat. Molten heat. He wants to see Peggy torture Steve’s chest, his tits, he wants to see those longer, sharper fingernails paint red lines down his pink chest and watch him try not to cum. Watch him try not to writhe and touch himself or grind against the bed to get off. He’s always had over-sensitive nipples. Even when they weren’t masses of heaving, hard muscle and just skin and bone but no less pretty, just pretty in a different way. Now he squirms and makes the cutest fucking sounds when treated right, kinda like some of the girls Bucky took to bed back in brookly- he hopes Carter figures that out. 

“Alpha,” he finds himself panting, unthinking about stealing the attention away from Steve because he so deeply wants their permission, “Sssteve, Peggy,” he doesn’t sound like himself but he keeps talking regardless, “can I?” His hand is hovering over the crotch of his uniform pants, which are coated now in Steve’s first release. He wants nothing more than to get his fingers inside himself. He’s beginning to ache. 

“Oh hell,” Peggy huffs out, but she’s smiling so he doesn’t take it too personally, “yes, James. Strip for us, then you touch yourself. I don’t want you to touch your dick though yet, I don’t think,” Steve whimpers as if it’s him that’s being denied and in a way, he is, he’s being denied the opportunity to watch Bucky get his hands on his own body, “just open yourself up for one of the heat toys you have while I take care of Steve.” 

Steve moans and rubs his face directly over Peggy’s breasts at the mention of himself, he looks like he’s about ready to start drooling and maybe like he’s already on the edge again, he sputters something inaudible against her. Peggy huffs again. Shooting him a dangerous, I’m-in-charge look while stroking her hand through his sweat matted hair. Her smaller, but undeniably alpha, body pressing Steve’s into the mattress on his back is a sight to behold. Bucky feels himself drip into his shorts. He needs to get out of his clothes and fast or he’s going to have to ask for a new uniform because he’s stained things. Well- they’ll be more stained than they already are. 

He stumbles off of the bed, dragging one of the rumbled sheets with him as he does. 

“What is it darling?” He hears Peggy growl at Steve, who whimpers and lets his head loll back. Bucky licks his lips, there’s sweat glistening on his face and neck. The pale collem of his throat shines in the low lighting- it’s like a beacon, pulling Bucky in further, wanting to reclaim the advertised skin with his teeth like he did years ago. Steve’s panting like an overgrown, over eager puppy. 

“Wanna, wa- www,” Steve gasps and Bucky looks up from his task of undoing the buttons on his shirt, Peggy’s leaving lipstick hickeys down the broad path of his throat, a moan tumbles out of his own mouth as if he’s being given the treatment. Steve’s heavy, dark, animalistic eyes shoot over to him, boring holes through the available bare skin even as he speaks to the alpha they’re going to be sharing, “want, wanna be full.” He finally chokes out. 

Bucky shrugs off his shirt and steps out of his pants in the same breath, staring right back at his mate, “knot him, Peggy.” 

Peggy sucks a mark that looks divine against her lipstick and the pale tone of his skin. She turns Steve to look at her with a gentle but commanding hand and Bucky watches as she stakes her claim, fucking her tongue into Steve’s gorgeous, lax mouth. Bucky’s not sure who makes the hungrier noise. Himself or Steve. He wants that. His veins feel too full of blood and his skin feels too sensitive for how early it is in his heat. He’s not sure if it’s Peggy or Steve turning him up to eleven but he doesn’t fucking care.

By the time Bucky has the prize of his heat toy, a dildo with a sizeable fake knot at the end of it, retrieved from their private items that have been stashed in the corner of their room and is just barely beginning to turn around he hears a fucking wail get shoved out of Steve. Bucky knows that noise. 

He whorls around. 

All of the air inside his body leaves him. 

Peggy has her skirt shoved up around her hips, showing off pale and soft looking but clearly strong thighs, and is pressing her cock into Steve’s leaking cunt. Steve is half-way into ripping apart their bedding with his bare hands, his mouth falling completely open and his eyes screwed up in ecstasy with his face shoved into the bed, his hips are tilted up and back and he’s on his knees. Presenting. Bucky’s innermost instincts scream to match his stance and to take one of them. Either Peggy right after she’s through with Steve or Steve himself. Bucky’s knees nearly give out when he imagines the feeling of Steve’s dick being forced into his own cunt by the forceful thrusts of Peggy’s hips. 

Steve chokes on another noise and Bucky’s brain reverts from it’s complete melt down. 

Steve’s looking at him now. Bucky knows that look even without the ropes pulling at his very soul through their bond. 

That look is hunger. 

Bucky feels like a puppet being pulled along towards the bed as he walks, entranced by the fire dancing under his skin, he feels like he’s having cigarette ashes flicked on him- he feels dangerous and intoxicated. It’s good. Hell- nothing’s better. 

Steve, even while Peggy begins to pump her vast hips, arranges him like he’s a ragdoll. Like he’s the one who weighs barely a hundred pounds at the best of times. Bucky lets himself gasp and whimper with it, imagining unabashedly that Steve’s just going to dive in and fuck him until he passes out. That Steve is the one with the knot and that he’s going to fuck Bucky’s cunt full until he can barely stand the pressure, until his stomach is swollen with his cum in a preview of what it’ll look like when he’s bred up with his pups. Steve whines, high and thin and gorgeous, and Bucky feels lightheaded with his arousal. 

“Wh-what, what’d’ya need?” Bucky finds himself having being teleported to the bed again, seemingly having just always existed here instead of what ever the fuck else happened. 

Steve opens his mouth but all that comes out is a loud - like dangerously, we’re-playing-with-fire-here, loud - moan because Peggy’s taking to fucking him wonderfully hard. She’s really more plowing him into the bed than she is fucking him. Steve makes some more high pitched, sweet noises and Bucky’s then got no choice. 

He slides himself off of the bed, much to Steve’s disapproval, if his whines are anything to go by, but he quiets when he watches Bucky pick up his own underwear. Bucky lets the wicked smirk that wants to conquer his face do so- looking up from the floor slowly but easily, letting Steve catch full wind of his face but not his intentions. He keeps those thoughts and plans from entering into Steve’s side of their bond. 

The other omega, whimpers and shuts his eyes, abandoning his white-knuckle deathgrip Steve reaches out desperately. Unashamed. And perfectly debauched. 

Bucky swaggers back over to Steve and Peggy and slides himself under Steve’s hulking frame- well, it isn’t so much his doing as it is that Steve drags him under his own body but the premise still stands. Had he gotten to do it himself he would’ve. 

But he does fully get to shove his own underwear between Steve’s wet, candy-red, swollen lips. 

Steve sobs, his face breaking into something even more animal than anything Bucky can recall ever seeing and Peggy groans, the slapping of their hips stops for a moment. Steve’s cumming again. Bucky can feel it in the rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure rushing through the bond that he tries desperately to ignore for fear of losing himself completely to, and he can see it in the way Peggy’s mouth hangs open just like his and in the way all of his muscles tighten and ripple and the in the shaking of his thighs. Sweat rolls down all of that golden fucking skin. Bucky bites down over the waxy stains Peggy’s left behind. 

Steve isn’t going to know which way is up and which way is down after they’re done with him.


End file.
